SCENE II. The same. The council-chamber.

Cornets. Enter King Henry , leaning on the Cardinal’s shoulder, the Nobles, and Sir Thomas Lovell ; the Cardinal places himself under the King’s feet on his right side.

KING. My life itself, and the best heart of it, Thanks you for this great care. I stood i’ th’ level Of a full-charged confederacy, and give thanks To you that choked it. Let be called before us That gentleman of Buckingham’s; in person I’ll hear his confessions justify, And point by point the treasons of his master He shall again relate.

A noise within crying “Room for the Queen!” Enter Queen Katherine , ushered by the Duke of Norfolk and the Duke of Suffolk . She kneels. The King riseth from his state, takes her up and kisses her.

QUEEN KATHERINE. Nay, we must longer kneel; I am a suitor.

KING. Arise, and take place by us.

[ He placeth her by him. ]

Half your suit Never name to us; you have half our power; The other moiety ere you ask is given. Repeat your will and take it.

QUEEN KATHERINE. Thank your Majesty. That you would love yourself, and in that love Not unconsidered leave your honour nor The dignity of your office, is the point Of my petition.

KING. Lady mine, proceed.

QUEEN KATHERINE. I am solicited, not by a few, And those of true condition, that your subjects Are in great grievance. There have been commissions Sent down among ’em which hath flawed the heart Of all their loyalties; wherein, although, My good Lord Cardinal, they vent reproaches Most bitterly on you as putter-on Of these exactions, yet the King our master, Whose honour heaven shield from soil, even he escapes not Language unmannerly, yea, such which breaks The sides of loyalty, and almost appears In loud rebellion.

NORFOLK. Not “almost appears,” It doth appear; for, upon these taxations, The clothiers all, not able to maintain The many to them longing, have put off The spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who, Unfit for other life, compelled by hunger And lack of other means, in desperate manner Daring the event to th’ teeth, are all in uproar, And danger serves among them.

KING. Taxation? Wherein? And what taxation? My Lord Cardinal, You that are blamed for it alike with us, Know you of this taxation?

WOLSEY. Please you, sir, I know but of a single part in aught Pertains to th’ state, and front but in that file Where others tell steps with me.

QUEEN KATHERINE. No, my lord? You know no more than others? But you frame Things that are known alike, which are not wholesome To those which would not know them, and yet must Perforce be their acquaintance. These exactions Whereof my sovereign would have note, they are Most pestilent to the hearing, and to bear ’em, The back is sacrifice to the load. They say They are devised by you, or else you suffer Too hard an exclamation.

KING. Still exaction! The nature of it? In what kind, let’s know, Is this exaction?

QUEEN KATHERINE. I am much too venturous In tempting of your patience, but am boldened Under your promised pardon. The subjects’ grief Comes through commissions, which compels from each The sixth part of his substance, to be levied Without delay; and the pretence for this Is named your wars in France. This makes bold mouths. Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze Allegiance in them. Their curses now Live where their prayers did; and it’s come to pass This tractable obedience is a slave To each incensed will. I would your Highness Would give it quick consideration, for There is no primer business.

KING. By my life, This is against our pleasure.

WOLSEY. And for me, I have no further gone in this than by A single voice, and that not passed me but By learned approbation of the judges. If I am Traduced by ignorant tongues, which neither know My faculties nor person, yet will be The chronicles of my doing, let me say ’Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake That virtue must go through. We must not stint Our necessary actions in the fear To cope malicious censurers, which ever, As ravenous fishes, do a vessel follow That is new-trimmed, but benefit no further Than vainly longing. What we oft do best, By sick interpreters, once weak ones, is Not ours or not allowed; what worst, as oft, Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up For our best act. If we shall stand still In fear our motion will be mocked or carped at, We should take root here where we sit, Or sit state-statues only.

KING. Things done well, And with a care, exempt themselves from fear; Things done without example, in their issue Are to be feared. Have you a precedent Of this commission? I believe, not any. We must not rend our subjects from our laws And stick them in our will. Sixth part of each? A trembling contribution! Why, we take From every tree lop, bark, and part o’ t’ timber, And though we leave it with a root, thus hacked, The air will drink the sap. To every county Where this is questioned send our letters with Free pardon to each man that has denied The force of this commission. Pray, look to’t; I put it to your care.

WOLSEY. [ Aside to his Secretary .] A word with you. Let there be letters writ to every shire Of the King’s grace and pardon. The grieved commons Hardly conceive of me. Let it be noised That through our intercession this revokement And pardon comes. I shall anon advise you Further in the proceeding.

[ Exit Secretary . ]

Enter Surveyor .

QUEEN KATHERINE. I am sorry that the Duke of Buckingham Is run in your displeasure.

KING. It grieves many. The gentleman is learned and a most rare speaker; To nature none more bound; his training such That he may furnish and instruct great teachers And never seek for aid out of himself. Yet see, When these so noble benefits shall prove Not well disposed, the mind growing once corrupt, They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly Than ever they were fair. This man so complete, Who was enrolled ’mongst wonders, and when we, Almost with ravished list’ning, could not find His hour of speech a minute—he, my lady, Hath into monstrous habits put the graces That once were his, and is become as black As if besmeared in hell. Sit by us. You shall hear— This was his gentleman in trust—of him Things to strike honour sad. Bid him recount The fore-recited practices, whereof We cannot feel too little, hear too much.

WOLSEY. Stand forth, and with bold spirit relate what you, Most like a careful subject, have collected Out of the Duke of Buckingham.

KING. Speak freely.

SURVEYOR. First, it was usual with him—every day It would infect his speech—that if the King Should without issue die, he’ll carry it so To make the sceptre his. These very words I’ve heard him utter to his son-in-law, Lord Abergavenny; to whom by oath he menaced Revenge upon the Cardinal.

WOLSEY. Please your Highness, note This dangerous conception in this point, Not friended by his wish to your high person His will is most malignant, and it stretches Beyond you to your friends.

QUEEN KATHERINE. My learned Lord Cardinal, Deliver all with charity.

KING. Speak on. How grounded he his title to the crown? Upon our fail? To this point hast thou heard him At any time speak aught?

SURVEYOR. He was brought to this By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Henton.

KING. What was that Henton?

SURVEYOR. Sir, a Chartreux friar, His confessor, who fed him every minute With words of sovereignty.

KING. How know’st thou this?

SURVEYOR. Not long before your Highness sped to France, The Duke being at the Rose, within the parish Saint Laurence Poultney, did of me demand What was the speech among the Londoners Concerning the French journey. I replied, Men fear the French would prove perfidious, To the King’s danger. Presently the Duke Said ’twas the fear indeed, and that he doubted ’Twould prove the verity of certain words Spoke by a holy monk, “that oft,” says he, “Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit John de la Car, my chaplain, a choice hour To hear from him a matter of some moment; Whom after under the confession’s seal He solemnly had sworn that what he spoke My chaplain to no creature living but To me should utter, with demure confidence This pausingly ensued: ‘Neither the King nor’s heirs, Tell you the Duke—shall prosper. Bid him strive To gain the love o’ th’ commonalty. The Duke Shall govern England.’”

QUEEN KATHERINE. If I know you well, You were the Duke’s surveyor, and lost your office On the complaint o’ th’ tenants. Take good heed You charge not in your spleen a noble person And spoil your nobler soul. I say, take heed— Yes, heartily beseech you.

KING. Let him on. Go forward.

SURVEYOR. On my soul, I’ll speak but truth. I told my lord the Duke, by th’ devil’s illusions The monk might be deceived, and that ’twas dangerous For him to ruminate on this so far until It forged him some design, which, being believed, It was much like to do. He answered, “Tush, It can do me no damage,” adding further That had the King in his last sickness failed, The Cardinal’s and Sir Thomas Lovell’s heads Should have gone off.

KING. Ha! What, so rank? Ah ha! There’s mischief in this man. Canst thou say further?

SURVEYOR. I can, my liege.

KING. Proceed.

SURVEYOR. Being at Greenwich, After your Highness had reproved the Duke About Sir William Bulmer—

KING. I remember Of such a time, being my sworn servant, The Duke retained him his. But on. What hence?

SURVEYOR. “If,” quoth he, “I for this had been committed,” As to the Tower, I thought, “I would have played The part my father meant to act upon Th’ usurper Richard who, being at Salisbury, Made suit to come in ’s presence; which if granted, As he made semblance of his duty, would Have put his knife into him.”

KING. A giant traitor!

WOLSEY. Now, madam, may his Highness live in freedom, And this man out of prison?

QUEEN KATHERINE. God mend all.

KING. There’s something more would out of thee. What sayst?

SURVEYOR. After “the Duke his father,” with “the knife,” He stretched him, and with one hand on his dagger, Another spread on ’s breast, mounting his eyes, He did discharge a horrible oath, whose tenour Was, were he evil used, he would outgo His father by as much as a performance Does an irresolute purpose.

KING. There’s his period, To sheathe his knife in us. He is attached. Call him to present trial. If he may Find mercy in the law, ’tis his; if none, Let him not seek ’t of us. By day and night, He’s traitor to th’ height!

[ Exeunt. ]